DEREK
I don’t goafter her.
Not because I don’t want to.
Because by the time I reach the doors, I already know.
The night air hits me hard—cool, sharp, sobering in a way the champagne never was. The valet stand is chaos: engines idling, doors opening and closing, laughter spilling too loud from people who haven’t realized yet that the evening is over.
I scan the sidewalk anyway.
A reflex.
She’s not there.
Not stepping into a car. Not pausing to look back. Not standing anywhere she could be intercepted or explained to or convinced.
Audra doesn’t leave like that.
If she’s gone, she’s gone on purpose.
That lands heavier than Jamie’s words did.
I stand there longer than makes sense, jacket still on, hands useless at my sides, the doors behind me closing softly as if sealing off a version of the night that no longer exists.
I think of the look on Audra’s face when she understood.
Not anger.
Not shock.
Clarity.
That’s the part I won’t be able to undo.
Alex appears at my shoulder. Mark just behind him. Neither of them says anything at first. They don’t need to.
“She left,” Alex says finally. Not a question.
“Yes.”
Mark exhales slowly. “Then we’re done here.”
I nod.
Someone presses keys into my hand. I don’t remember who. The ride down the garage ramp feels too smooth, too quiet, like my body is already disconnecting from the night.
In the back sea of Mark's cart, city lights smear against the glass. My phone buzzes once, then again..
PR.
Legal.
The first wave.
I don’t answer.
I lean my head back and close my eyes, not to sleep—just to stop replaying the moment where I might have done something different.
